Signs above or beside the doors: Machine Operations. Fissile Research. Radiation Badge Testing Center—Do Not Pass Checkpoint B Without Test.

“Funny, Detective,” the man beside her said, gasping from the jog.

“What’s that, Alonzo?”

“No smoke here.”

True. Odd.

The black column had been quite thick, rising into the sky from a source very close. But there was no smoke directly around them.

Hell, she thought. This was a facility that had fabricated radioactive materials. Maybe at the end of this corridor they would find a thick, and impenetrable, security door, keeping the smoke out—but barring their way, as well.

They came to an L in the hallway, and paused at the juncture but only for a moment. Sachs crouched and went low, sweeping her gun forward.

Wilkes covered her again, with Alonzo going wide.

Nothing but emptiness.

Her radio crackled. “Patrol Four Eight Seven Eight. Gap in the fence in the back, K. A local outside said he saw white male, heavyset, beard, exit five minutes ago, running. Bag or backpack. Didn’t see where he went or if he had wheels.”

“K,” Sachs whispered. “Call it in to the local precinct and ESU. Anyone in the back of the building? Source of fire?”

No one answered. But another officer radioed that the fire department had just arrived and were through the chain link.

Sachs and her colleagues continued up the dogleg of a corridor. Keep going, keep going, she told herself, breathing hard.

They were almost to the back of the wing. Ahead of them was a door. It wasn’t as intimidating or impenetrable as she’d expected: just a standard wooden one and actually slightly ajar. Yet still there was no smoke, which meant there had to be another room, on the other side of this portal, sealed up, where the victim would be.

Sprinting now, Sachs ran through the doorway, pushing forward fast to find the chamber that was in flames.

And, with a breathtaking thud, she slammed directly into Robert Ellis, knocking him off the wooden box. He screamed in terror.

“Jesus Lord,” she cried. Then to her backup: “In here, fast!”

She clutched Ellis around the waist and lifted hard to keep the pressure of the noose off his neck. Damn, he was heavy.

While Wilkes covered them once more—there was no certainty that the fleeing man was the perp or, if he was, that he was operating alone—Sachs and the other officer lifted Ellis up; Alonzo worked the noose off and pulled the blindfold from his eyes, which scanned the room frantically, like a terrified animal’s.

Ellis was choking and sobbing. “Thank you, thank you! God, I was going to die!”

She looked around her. No fire. Here or in an adjacent room. What the hell was going on?

“You wounded, hurt?” She helped him ease to the floor.

“He was going to hang me! Christ. Who is he?” His voice was groggy.

She repeated the question.

“I don’t know. Not bad, I guess. My throat hurts. He dragged me around with a fucking noose around my neck. But I’m all right.”